


To Change A Point Of View

by SpaceBat (kuraikon)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5 Times, F/M, Five Times, Five times Jaskier’s songs changed how people saw and acted to Geralt, Gen, Jaskier changes the way people see geralt, M/M, and one time Geralt was surprised by how Jaskier’s songs changed how people acted to jaskier, and witchers in general, bit of a fix-it fic ngl, five plus one fic, theres only a small bit of Geralt/omf so dw, through the power of song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22589023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuraikon/pseuds/SpaceBat
Summary: ‘If Geralt played his cards right, he could move just behind the songs as they worked their ways through the villages and would find a steady amount of work open to him.’Or5 times Geralt saw how Jaskier’s songs changed how people treated him and 1 time he was surprised by how Jaskier’s songs made someone treat Jaskier.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 1148





	To Change A Point Of View

**Author's Note:**

> Bc you can’t tell me people hear Jaskier’s catchy af tunes and don’t start to think a bit different about their local Witcher.

5 times Geralt saw how Jaskier’s songs changed how people treated him and 1 time he was surprised by how Jaskier’s songs made someone treat Jaskier.

1

Looking back, Geralt’s sure it’s actually happened before now.

Toss A Coin had become ridiculously well known a year or so after the actual adventure, so well that Geralt has heard more than a few bards put their own voice and spin to it, all of which paled in comparison to the original but Geralt would personally rather have his ‘tender meat’ actually minced rather than admit that aloud. 

With the song steadily catching on, Geralt’s fairly sure that he’s been less glared at as he passes through villages, had less stones thrown at him as he leaves towns and had less problems collecting his owed coin from those who had employed him. But that’s in hindsight, in all honesty, and not something Geralt could actually say for certain.

The first time he actually notices that the (frustratingly catchy) song seems to have made a difference to how people act towards him is in a town just outside of Oxenfurt, where the so called Mayor and innkeeper had asked him to move on a clutch of Wyverns that seemed to have settled themselves along the main road. By the time the creatures had been forced to de-nest, Geralt has arrived back at the inn only to be told by the keepers daughter that her father had gone out for luncheon. With a huff, Geralt had sat to wait the return of his pay and was surprised when the barmaid put down cheese and bread to his table without asking along with a drink. 

After all, most people didn’t want Witcher’s hanging around their establishments longer than needed.

When her father arrived, jolly with the news of Geralt’s successful mission, Geralt was more surprised when the man didn’t ask him to move on, but instead handed him another drink with his payment and then even waved away the coin Geralt tied to leave as payment for the food.

“Toss a coin to your Witcher, and all that.” The man said with a chuckle.

Huh.

2

From there, the trends were fairly easy to follow; Jaskier’s latest song about Geralt would reach the larger towns first and spread through the land with a surprising amount of of eager listeners. If Geralt played his cards right, he could move just behind the songs as they worked their ways through the villages and would find a steady amount of work open to him. 

But sometimes Geralt’s adventures would take him into the wilderness for weeks or months on end which could mean he would leave civilisation with one of Jaskier’s songs taking towns by storm and re-enter to a whole new tune taking top place on people’s lips. 

Once, after such a time of isolation, Geralt had left Roach in a comfortable stable of the inn he was planning to stay and had by-passed the tavern completely to seek company at a brothel instead, barely taking in that the song coming from the tavern and being sung along to was not the one he remembered being played when he had visited a bar last. With a pretty girl chosen and paid for, Geralt had noticed she was humming the song from the tavern but paid it little mind as they undressed and fell into bed together.

Soothed but not sated by their first round, Geralt put forward the idea of a second by kissing along the girls neck as she lay panting next to him, aware that not all would be willing or wanting for another round. 

But the girl giggled happily and climbed herself on top of him to smile down with a wink.

“Going to show me the stamina of a Witcher?” She said, lifting the voice at the end to add a hint of music.

Geralt creased his brow beneath her, even as his automatically put his hands to steady her hip. “Stamina of...” The tune caught up with him and Geralt managed to put things together, rolling his eyes with a groan and letting his head hit the pillow. “Damn it, Jaskier.”

The girl took the reaction in her stride, bringing Geralt’s attention to her and fluttering her eyelashes. “I won’t charge for the second go if you do the song justice.”

Well, Geralt could handle a challenge.

3

Not all of Jaskier’s songs caught on so readily but enough did that when Geralt and Jaskier travelled together they did especially well for coin. So when Geralt took a werewolf job literally just outside the walls of Novigrad, Jaskier went on into the town and bagged a room at an inn close to where a market had been set up. With shops bringing in so many people, it was easy for Jaskier to drop his name and have the inn ask him to play through the night for a reduced rate of a room.

Which worked well, secretly, since whenever Geralt took a contract for a beast of the night Jaskier tended to prefer to stay up for his Witcher, ready to help with wounds if needed. 

So after even the most stubborn drunks had left the bar, Jaskier stayed to play soft tunes while the staff cleaned and then later still, to simply makes notes. It was just after sunrise that Geralt entered the inn, limping and clearly tired but remarkably unscathed save for a claw wound to his shoulder. Jaskier had clicked his tongue and shook his head with a wrinkled nose but hadn’t complained as Geralt joined him in his booth, shrugging off his upper armour and eventually laying down to make himself comfortable with his head in Jaskier’s lap, wounded shoulder up. With Novigrad having their fair share of Witcher’s, the barmaid on that morning had barely glanced at Geralt, instead wordlessly made a bowl of warm water and set it at Jaskier’s table with a pile of fabric.

Jaskier hummed a tune as he gently cleaned the claw marks on Geralt’s shoulder as the Witcher dozed in his lap; a soft melody that Jaskier had played only for Geralt as an almost lullaby.

Geralt woke when people started to come and go from the inn but stayed in his comfortable place, simply turning to hide his wound and instead have Jaskier run his fingers through his hair to untangle it. 

Just before noon a man put his bag heavily at their feet, making Geralt open his eyes. He looked like a blacksmith, tall and broad shouldered with muscular arms and plenty of soot on his clothes.

“You the White Wolf?” The man grunted, eyeing up the men settled in the booth. “From the songs?”

With a heavy sigh, Geralt sat up and pulled his shirt to over his healing scars. Jaskier scooted back and pulled his lute and the murky bowl of water out of knocking range instinctively.

“Hmm.” Was Geralt’s only reply.

The man’s eyes turned to Jaskier. “You the bard?”

“My reputation proceeds me.”

“What,” Geralt asked, speaking to draw the man’s attention back to him. “Do you want.”

Eyes darting between the two, the man eventually sat heavily across from them and his previously guarded face split into a smile.

“Forgive my intrusion but my son, you see, he love the songs of the White Wolf, begs my wife to play them every night he does. And we’re here from a small town for the market, my family and I, and my wife heard you had taken a job near and so thought you might have stayed in the town.” The man took a breath, not noticing how surprise was pulling on both Jaskier’s and Geralt’s faces. “I’ve been smithing all morning at our market space but thought I would take a chance as see if you’re still around and look here, only the third place I’ve tried!”

Geralt raised a hand to stop the man rambling. “You’ve, ah, got a job for me?”

The man laughed. “No, no, happy as I can be and no monstered haunt my village, many thanks, Witcher.”

“Then, what?”

“Well, I realise this may be a bit odd, but like I said, my son, he adores the stories and we only live in a little village, no adventures happen there j can tell you. But my wife, she wondered, we wondered I should say, if you would mind passing by our stall in the market, maybe say hello to my boy. It’d mean the word to him, I’m sure his friends would never hear the end of it.”

Geralt’s face got steadily pink as the request finally came out while Jaskier’s broke into a look of utter delight, grabbing at Geralt’s thigh under the table to stop himself from making a scene.

“O-only if you have the time of course.”

Later, Jaskier watched from across the market as Geralt awkwardly greeted the blacksmith and his family, shoving a hand to his face to muffle his squeal of awe as the Witcher hesitantly kneeled down to come face to face with the blacksmiths son who seemed to stare at Geralt like a sunflower did to the sun. 

Later still, Geralt dropped a silver dagger from the smith’s table into Jaskier’s lap and a kiss onto Jaskier’s forehead, in silent thanks.

4

Geralt heard the hoof steps his sleep and was sitting up on his heels before he was fully awake, a hand grasping at the sword under his pillow while his other hovered over Jaskier’s waist. Listening through the tents fabric, Geralt moved to pull on his pants and counted five horses approaching by the time Roach awoke outside and let out a small noise of warning. Squeezing Jaskier’s hip to wake the bard, Geralt raised a finger to his lips as the other man sat up with his mouth open to speak. Snapping his jaw closed, Jaskier frowned at Geralt till the Witcher motioned to the front of the tent, where the soft noise came of a man dismounting. Finally, Jaskier’s eyes widened in realisation and the bard scrabbled to his knees.

No attack came and it stayed silent for so long that Jaskier startled when someone knocked on the tree their tent was next to, making Jaskier fall on his behind. Throwing one of the furs over Jaskier’s bare lap, Geralt pushed the tent flap open and stood out, scowling at the three off-horse men that greeted him with a bow and the two on horse men that nodded at him from further back.

“Geralt of Rivia, my master, Count Starhemberg, wishes to extend an invitation to you for his daughters wedding to the Margrave: Guido Thyssen. Long have we heard the stories and songs of the White Wolf and after your visit to Cintra to honour the Princess Pavetta with your attendance to her betrothal ball, the Countess Klaudia bequests you join the festivities of her wedding...”

With a small wince at the reminder of the Cintra ball just three years ago, Geralt sighed as the man continued his speech, turning slightly to raise his eyebrows accusingly at Jaskier who was peering through the tent door. Jaskier smiled brightly back, as if the Witcher was being followed into the forest and having his peace disturbed to be asked to go to a wedding before the bard began to sing songs about him.

5

Around a year after the dragons egg was saved, Geralt found himself in Posada, once again alone but this time unhappy about the fact. Though the town made him ache, Geralt waited patiently for his contract to meet him, settling himself into a familiar corner of a tavern with his hood pulled up and forcing himself to ignore the quietness of the place. 

Finally, his employer joined him, a dirty and weary looking farmer who was sure a mermaid of sorts had taken up residence in the river by his land. Geralt was less sure but agreed to assess the situation at least, since monsters had been taking up odd places lately. As he stood to leave with the coin he had been given, the man grabbed his arm.

“Don’t leave without doing the work, I ain’t a rich man for you to thief from.”

The barman passing tutted at him as Geralt brushed his hand away. 

“Don’t be daft, Leroy, he’s the White Witcher, you can trust him. You’ve heard the songs.”

Still the farmer wavered. 

“Aye, songs of giving him coin. Others too I suppose. The lad can spin a pretty tale.”

Now it was Geralt had paused. “The bard... he’s been through lately?”

The man shrugged unhelpfully but the barman shook his head.

“Not a while, I’m afraid. Last I heard he was heading to Vizima.” The man paused but coughed and continued lightly. “Seems to be making a nice wage for his sad love ballads recently.”

Just like his previous tunes about Geralt, these new ones tended to stick in the Witcher’s head too.

+1

With Ciri tucked up asleep in bed by the time the music down in the inns tavern came to an end, Geralt waited patiently for Jaskier to give his thanks and collect his coin before joining him. 

Travelling with Ciri the first few months had been difficult, Geralt unwilling to leave her to do hunts but equally refusing to have her join him on his work. Eventually Geralt had left her in their room to do a job for much needed coin but had regretted this when he heard someone had attempted a kidnapping from their inn on his way back. He had ran all the way back and his heart stilled when he saw the door to their room had been forced open. But when he entered, he found two men unconscious on the floor and Ciri chattering away happily to Jaskier while the bard braided her hair on the bed. 

Jaskier had stood awkward while Ciri told him how the man had saved her, though she could have done it herself, really, she pointed out, and then how she had heard of Jaskier’s songs about Geralt, long before she found him, did she ever tell him that? It was then Geralt’s turn to be unsure as he thanked then apologised to the bard, finding himself almost tripping over his words in his eagerness to get them out as Ciri and Jaskier stared at him.

Finally, Ciri was the last one to become taken aback as she watched Jaskier laugh at Geralt openly and then pull the Witcher in for a kiss who let himself be manhandled.

Geeky found himself smiling as he thought about how much easier it was to travel with Jaskier while with Ciri, not to mention lighter on his heart and Ciri’a troubled mind. Still unhappy to leave the girl for long, Jaskier’s singing bought in most of their needed coin while Geralt could at least breathe easy knowing the two would look out for each other when he had to go. 

He was teaching Ciri and Jaskier both about fighting and living in the wild but for now, Roach was no doubt the one to actually leave in charge in his stead.

Frowning, Geralt realised that he couldn’t hear much movement downstairs any more but instead was able to hear several deep voices alongside Jaskier’s placating tones which began to switch to frustrated and anxious.

Fuck.

Growling, Geralt hastily woke Ciri up, pushing the blade he had been training her with into her sleepy fingers.

“Kill anyone but Jaskier or I. Throat, stomach-“

“Groin or the back of the knees, I know.” Ciri finished, awake and pouting, something Geralt was sure she didn’t do till Jaskier began to travel with with. He pressed his forehead to hers roughly and then turned quickly and darted out the room, closing the door and hearing it lock behind him as he disappeared down the inns stairs. 

In the tavern, the barkeep and staff were gone and Jaskier was pressed with his back against a wooden structure frame in the middle of the room. Three men stood around him, all in varying states of drunkenness but equally all with weapons, an axe, a kitchen knife and a crossbow. Jaskier’s empty hands where held up in a calming gesture but his eyes were narrowed and his smell was angry. He was carefully keeping his weight on one leg, which looked like he was trying to protect his lute which was propped up at his side, but Geralt knew the bards dagger was tucked at that hip and was sure (alright, he was hoping) that Jaskier was actually keeping the blade more within reach.

“Now, now, gents, like I said, if you had issues with my song choices, I really wish you would have said during the performance.” Jaskier soothed. “I take many requests!”

“Wha,” one man said, stumbling closer with his knife waving. “So you can, can, can disappear after you’ show? Back to tha’ mutant to save you?”

Geralt narrowed his eyes in the dark which Jaskier unknowing mimicked. 

“So I can play what my crowd wishes to hear.” Jaskier replied, fake smile bright as his eyes watched the point of the knife. “The rest of your people seemed happy enough.”

The man with the axe leaned in. “They’ll be happier when you freaks ‘ave shoved off. Fucking unnatural.”

Now Jaskier huffed, cheeks filling with air. “Name calling, really? Geralt is not-“

“He’s talkin’ ‘bout you, you idiot.” The third man said, his crossbow thankfully unlatched as he swayed unsteadily. “A man, hell, a human, sleeping with a damn Witcher? Just ‘cause some people with look past your- your kinks to still enjoy your songs don’ mean we all will.”

The knife man snickered. “Jus’ ‘cause you sing at fancy balls you think people don’t judge yo’ still? Your a novelty jus’ like he is to those rich bastards.” He sneered, baring his teeth and making Geralt’s hackles rise. “I know you’ve heard what they call yo’... the Witcher’s little pet bitch.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Geralt’s fist collided with his face. His blade fell to the ground and Jaskier swooped to pick it up while Geralt grabbed the crossbow by the man’s hip, snapping the wood in his hand and shoving the man away with his free arm. Out of the corner of his eye, Geralt saw Jaskier swipe the knife at the man behind him who was raising his axe, slicing a forearm and making the man drop his weapon in surprise and pain. 

Unarmed the men hesitated, confused by the sudden fight and the alcohol. 

“Get the fuck out.” Geralt snarled, putting power into his voice and watching as the men stumbled over themselves and each other to rush out the door. Turning to Jaskier, Geralt didn’t have time to drop the roughness from his face before the bard was leaning up to place a kiss on his angry mouth. 

“Ciri?” Jaskier asked, smiling softly up at the stunned Witcher.

Geralt motioned to the stairs silently, watching curiously as Jaskier pulled his things together and started for the steps, Geralt at his heel. 

“People have said that to you before.” It wasn’t a question.

Jaskier sighed and turned on his step to look at Geralt, the extra height bringing his nose just above the Witcher’s. “Geralt, I friended a Witcher and sang songs to praise him. Then all Witcher’s. It was controversial at best in some places but a death wish in others. So yes, people have said that to me before, and worse. I got a lot of hate for the song about the she-wolf you ended up helping rather than killing. And lot more for the ballad about your eyes.” Jaskier shifted to wind his arms around Geralt’s shoulders, rubbing their noses together when the Witcher curled his arms around the bards waist. “I can’t change everyone’s view of you, I guess.”

“I don’t care what they think about me.” Geralt murmured, watching Jaskier's eyes close softly. “Just you.”

A nice silence fell, ruined by the bang on the door behind them.

“What about my opinion!?” Came Ciri’s voice.

-

(An extra

It was odd for Witcher’s to see each other outside of their school and Geralt couldn’t help how it put him on edge, the five of them, six if you included Ciri, who was busy darting between Geralt’s side and attempting her to showcase her new found skills by teasing the other Witcher’s, sitting around a table in a tavern.

“You ever feel,” Sorel began, not looking behind him as he battered Ciri’s hand from his coin purse at his hip. “That the worlds view of us has changed? I remember not being able to sit in a bar on my own, let alone with others.” 

Gascaden rolled his eyes. “You need to get out more,” he teased, feeling Ciri at his back and lifting her bodily from the floor by the scruff of her neck and ignoring her squeal as he deposited her in Geralt’s lap. “They sings songs of us now; and not just to call us things that rhyme with ‘hunt’.”

From Geralt’s lap, Ciri held up Gascaden’s wolf medallion to show off to Vesemir who curled his lip in response.

“And who’s to blame for that, I wonder.”

The table looked at Geralt in union, who grunted in a non-answer and took a deep drink to avert his gaze to the bard sat on a stall across the tavern, a small crowd around him as he moved into the chorus of Toss A Coin, winking at Geralt as he did.)

**Author's Note:**

> As a new D&D player, I appreciate a bard.


End file.
